Teardrop Murder
by Demonic Dreamer
Summary: Yuki messes around with eyeliner.
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note- I got this idea when I drew a tear drop on my face, and a teacher told me what it meant. Believe me when I say the story is more interesting than I am.

Disclaimer- I don't own this. Feh.

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Taking a long needed break from a new novel, Yuki sighed as he opened up a new browser window, directing it to his home page. There was his e-mail, one hundred fifty-four new messages. Deciding to put that aside for another week or two, Yuki scrolled down to his horoscope—_ You will find love this month._ The author rolled his eyes and continued scrolling. There were apparently ten –new- ways to improve his health. After giving the mundane list a quick look over, Yuki saw sex as number three and decided it was his favorite.

And then, of course, the fact of the day came last.

_Did you ever wonder why people draw tear drops under their eyes?_

"No," Yuki muttered but read on.

_While it might be the new trend…_

"Trend? They look like retards."

_Murderers used to draw teardrops on their eyes to commemorate the number of people they had killed. For instance, one teardrop meant that they had murdered one person. When this was still happening, some would use paint, or ink, but murderers today are more likely to use some form of make up. However, some choose to go to the extreme and have it permanently tattooed on. _

'Whatever.' Yuki sighed as he stood up and made his way to the bathroom. His eyes were growing tired, and he splashed cool water on his face. After he wiped his face dry, Yuki noticed a stick of eyeliner lying on the sink. 'Probably the brat's,' he thought. Still, for kicks, he picked up the black stick and pulled the cap off.

"Chanel?" He said in a rather amused thought as he saw the label. Shuichi did such a bad job with the eyeliner, why did he have to buy the good ones?

Feeling slightly more homosexual than usual, Yuki leaned in to the mirror and drew a small tear drop under his left eye.

"Yep. I was right. This _is _retarded." He swiped the towel over his face to get the black stuff off, but failed. Wetting the towel and rubbing harder, the tear drop remained, and now his cheek was red to boot. Yuki cursed his stupid ideas, and looked at the eyeliner again, reading the small print on the stick.

_Lasts twenty four hours, no smudge or wear._

"… Fuck."

Yuki let the eyeliner drop back down and went back to his novel. The brat would have to know how to get it off when he got home. Maybe this could be his new found mourning for Kitazawa, so that he wouldn't have to drag his ass to New York once a year. Though, he knew that he probably needed the trip to New York as more of a vacation than mourning. Yuki stared at the screen in front of him. He had already written a good twenty-something pages from morning to late afternoon. Maybe it was enough. The novelist stood up and closed his laptop, and decided to take a nap. The couch seemed rather comfortable, and so Yuki walked to the living room.

A few hours later, Yuki woke up, to a night sky in the window, and no sign of Shuichi. Yuki frowned; the brat was always home by seven, eight the latest. The clock over the TV blinked 8:59 and then an even 9:00. If he had cared, Yuki would have called. However, he didn't want to deal with cries of "Yuki was worried about me!" in the brat's annoying voice, so instead he called Tohma. At least the worst Tohma could do was be jealous.

Yuki only frowned more as he held down 1 on the speed dial Tohma had insisted when he bought him the phone. Tohma picked up before the first ring even finished, leaving Yuki to wonder how the president of NG had so much free time.

"Eiri!" he heard the older man shout into the phone, slightly irked.

"Where's the brat?" Yuki asked, too annoyed to waste time with Tohma's usual crap. He could almost hear the other's trademark pout through the phone.

"Shindou-san is recording late, now will you address me normally?" Tohma had the tiniest bit of hope in his voice.

"No." Yuki said coldly as he hung up the phone. Back in the NG building, Tohma pouted again. "Yuki used to be such a nice boy," he remarked as he went back to work.

Yuki's stomach grumbled and he decided it was about time to fix dinner, brat or no.

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Yes, that's it for now. I already have the next chapter done. Does Yuki ever get it off? Does Shuichi even come home? Do I sound like an ass?

Review and it'll be continued.


	2. Home Late

Author's Note: Ok. Here it is. Something actually happens in this chapter.

Disclaimer: You know full well that I don't own this.

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Shuichi returned home well after eleven, exhausted from another recording session from hell. He found Yuki on the couch, reading a competitor's novel. Yuki barely glanced up at the boy, before Shuichi began to ramble.

"I'm sorry Yuki! I didn't know I was going to be out so late! Cos…. Cos… K jus told us we had a deadline to make, and we had to do half of a CD today! And then Mr. Seguchi said you had called, and he said you sounded annoyed, or were you worried…? Yuki, were you worried about me!" A grin plastered itself across Shuichi's face at that last thought, and he allowed himself to have a bit of hope.

Yuki lowered his book, and got up. "No, I was hungry. Do you want me to heat up dinner?" he asked, walking to the kitchen.

"Mhm." Shuichi kicked off his shoes and followed Yuki. "Yuki?"

"What?"

"What's on your face?"

Yuki cringed slightly. "I couldn't get it off," he admitted. "Why, do you have a problem?"

"No." Shuichi pouted slightly. "Do you want help?"

"Just tell me how to get it off."

"You can't, really."

"… Oh."

Shuichi opened his mouth to ask why Yuki had it on in the first place, but then decided against it. Instead he asked "Were you waiting long?"

"I slept." Yuki took a pot out of the fridge, emptying it onto plate and shoving it in the microwave. "Weren't you recording all day?"

"Yeah, why?" Shuichi raised an eyebrow.

"Shouldn't you drink something for your voice?" Yuki turned away, reaching into another cabinet.

"I guess." Shuichi walked up behind Yuki, wrapping his arms around his waist. "See, you _do_ care."

Yuki flinched slightly, before he pulled out the herbal tea. "Don't get used to it." Setting the teapot on, he pulled out a mug, putting in a tea bag. Yuki turned around, looking down at the mess of pink hair, a slight scowl appearing on his features.

"Can't I cling to you for a little while?" Shuichi asked, a bit hurt. Yuki remained silent as he lifted up a hand to run through the boy's hair. Shuichi let out a small purr as Yuki's other arm was around his waist.

"Aren't you already?" Yuki finally said, before the microwave beeped, ruining their moment. Shuichi cursed food and Yuki cursed technology, neither letting the other know. Yuki pulled out the plate and handed it to Shuichi, who only stared at him. "It's not hot, moron," he assured him. After realizing that Yuki was holding the plate himself, Shuichi smiled and took the plate, sitting down at the table. Yuki waited for the teapot to whistle, filling the mug with hot water after it did. He carried it over to Shuichi.

"It's hot." Yuki left to go back to his book before Shuichi could make a bad pun. Shuichi pouted before going back to his food. He ate half, and then picked at the rest. Yuki always made too much food. Deciding he wasn't going to eat anymore, Shuichi got up and threw it into the trash can. Quite frankly, if Yuki hadn't taken the time to make him tea, Shuichi wouldn't have drunk it. He did, and then went to go find Yuki again, in his usual spot.

Shuichi sat down next to him, drawing his knees up to his chin. Leaning his head on Yuki's shoulder, Shuichi let himself close his eyes.

-_That_- was a mistake. No sooner had he let his eyelids drop than Yuki had him on his back on the couch, hands pinned over his head.

"Y-Yuki?" Shuichi began to wonder if Yuki was going senile. Yuki leaned in and kissed him, not gently at first like usual, but fiercely, almost possessively.

Then again, Shuichi decided that if Yuki _was_ going senile, he liked it. Just as harshly as Yuki had started, he pulled away. "Don't come home that late again."

Deciding not to protest over how it actually wasn't very late at all, Shuichi simply nodded. "If I do, will you do that again?" He asked with a smirk.

"No." Yuki pulled away, and sat up again. Shuichi frowned, sitting up as well.

"What does the tear drop mean?" he asked, unable to further hold it in.

Yuki looked at Shuichi with a twisted grin. "It's for all the people I've killed." He said with a sadistic undertone.

Considerably taken aback, Shuichi remained quiet.

"Scared?"

"… No." Shuichi lied blatantly.

Yuki smirked. The brat was off his case. "Now, if there are no more questions about my mentality, I'm going to bed." Yuki got up but felt a tug on his shirt tail.

"Don't go."

"Why?" Yuki looked at the boy with narrowed eyes.

"Because I don't want to be alone."

Yuki laughed, but it was a dark laugh, full of sarcasm. "You're amazing."

"How's that?"

"You left me alone all day, without even a phone call as to whether or not I should have dinner without you, and now you _don't want to be _**alone**?"

"Yuki…"

"You're just like all of them, you know, as long as you're happy, nothing else matters."

"Yuki, that's not true, and you know it."

Yuki however, had lost patience. "If you want me, I'll be in bed," was all he said before he left for the bedroom.

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Review. Smut in next chapter. I hate QuickEdit. 


	3. You Should Wear Makeup More Often

Disclaimer: This is getting really annoying. I _don't _own Gravitation!

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After a moment's hesitation, Shuichi followed Yuki into his bedroom, where he found Yuki had just finished changing for bed. The blonde man stood in his boxers facing away from the boy, closing his closet door. Yuki turned around to find Shuichi staring at him, watching the curves of his fluid movement, admiring the soft color of his bare skin, taking in as much of his mercurial lover as he could. Shuichi blushed and turned away when he realized he had been caught, apologizing furiously.

Yuki scoffed. "So it's fine when you see me like this in bed, but not now, brat?" he advanced toward Shuichi, running a hand through his hair. "Or in the shower, hmm?"

Shuichi blushed an even deeper shade of red, but turned to face Yuki again. "N-no…" he began. Yuki stood in front of Shuichi; he put a hand on each side of him, pinning the boy between himself and the wall.

"What should we do with you?" Yuki asked, his face dangerously close.

Shuichi tried his luck. "Well, you –_could_- kiss me."

"I could. But maybe… you need to learn a lesson, for coming home so late."

"I already told you, I- umph!" Shuichi's protest was cut short as Yuki kissed him.

"Maybe, you don't." Yuki said after a moment's kiss.

"Yuki… what's going on?" Shuichi asked, hesitantly at first, eyeing his lover carefully. Yuki never cared when he came home late, or rarely if he came home at all.

"What do you mean?" Yuki feigned ignorance.

"You're acting different. It's weird." A pout formed on Shuichi's features.

Slightly frustrated, Yuki scowled. "You're always complaining about how I need to care more, and then when I do, you get scared," He straightened up, and let his hands fall to his side. "I don't get you."

"I'm sorry Yuki!" Shuichi moved from leaning against the wall to leaning on Yuki's chest, arms around the older man. "I was just afraid that you might be Tatsuha, or… or… "

Yuki flinched at the mention of his brother's name. Was he really so cold to his own lover, that on the occasion that he was nice he was mistaken for someone else? He brought his arms around Shuichi, glad that there was no microwave to disrupt them now.

Shuichi made an appreciative noise low in his throat, snuggling his head against Yuki's chest. "Yuki, can we stay like this?" he asked.

"No."

"Yuki!" Shuichi pulled away, facing his lover with a face of confusion.

"Let's lie down instead." Yuki offered a rare smile.

"Yuki…" Somehow his hand met Yuki's, and Shuichi climbed into the bed after him. Once they were settled with Shuichi half in the crook of Yuki's arm and half on top of him, Shuichi used the hand that wasn't pinned under Yuki to trace the tear Yuki had drawn.

"You know, you really _should_ wear make up more often." He said.

"… What, to make me look even _more_ gay?" Yuki asked in his usual cynical tone.

Shuichi scowled. "No. _I _like it."

"Okay. Then have fun with it while it's there."

"… Fine." Pulling his arm out from under Yuki, Shuichi resettled himself on top of Yuki.

"What are you doing?" Yuki asked with a frown.

"Having fun." Shuichi said simply before claiming Yuki's lips as his own.

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It's over. Because there's nothing else for me to write, so I'm not even extending it anymore. Yeah, another plot-less fic. If you're going to flame me, at least don't do it just because there's not plot.

((sigh)) Review, please?


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